


Coffee Call

by Merkwerkee



Category: Masters of the Metaverse (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Found Family, Grief, Grief/Mourning, Off-screen Character Death, happens before the story starts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-20
Updated: 2020-11-20
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:15:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27645353
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Merkwerkee/pseuds/Merkwerkee
Summary: Andi Jaymes has worked at Joe's Place since before her grandmother died, trying desperately to hit it big in the music scene while working at the cafe to make ends meet. She keeps working there after her grandmother passes away because somehow grief doesn't stop bills from needing to be paid, and gets a very unexpected customer





	Coffee Call

Andi discreetly wiped her eyes for the fifth time that day, glad of the mostly ornamental half-apron that was part of the required uniform.

It’d been almost a month since her grandmother, her last living family member who had raised Andi ever since she was small, had died. She’d known for a while it was coming, had watched the cancer progress as the medical bills mounted ever higher, but that didn’t mean it hadn’t hurt. The life insurance had been just enough to cover the funeral; it had been a small affair, with only Andi and a few members of her grandmother’s knitting circle attending. After that, Andi was left alone in a too-big apartment filled with far too many memories.

At least Joe had been understanding about the whole thing; when the owner of the coffee place she worked at had heard her teary voice over the phone saying she wouldn’t be in today, he’d told her to take as much time as she needed to get herself back together and that her job would be waiting for her when she returned. That had prompted a fresh bout of tears that he’d patiently waited on the line through before telling her in the gentlest voice that she’d ever heard him use that it would get better, no matter how bleak it seemed right now. She’d thanked him profusely before hanging up; for all Joe was never to her knowledge ever actually in the coffee shop that bore his name - Joe’s Place - he seemed to have a finger on the pulse of it at all times. She suspected the head barista, a tall guy everyone called Hollywood, was a relative of his or something and told him everything, but it didn’t really matter.

It had taken her almost two weeks before the apartment had become unbearable; she still had some time left on the lease, but she used her grandmother’s passing as an excuse to break it early without a fee and found another, smaller place downtown. It was further from the coffee shop, but it was closer to the bars and other cafes that sometimes held open mic nights and she still clung to the idea of someday making it big as a musician. Plus it looked nothing like her old apartment and was far more affordable, so that was something. Going through her grandmother’s things had been the low point of the month, and she’d ended up taking several days to get through it all.

Still, by the end of a month she couldn’t take it anymore and had called Joe’s Place to ask for some shifts. She suspected Joe had told Hollywood about what had happened, because when she got her schedule it was two weeks of easy mid-afternoon shifts that started just after the morning rush ended and went on for eight hours with a break clearly marked during the lunch peak. Andi could only be grateful for the kid gloves treatment; this was just her first day back and she’d nearly broken down several times already at stupid, stupid things. Someone wearing the same fragrance her grandmother used to, a turn of phrase that was so out of touch with the times, a shirt in her grandmother’s favorite shade of blue -

“Hey.”

Andi finished wiping her eyes and looked up. Standing at the counter with his hands jammed in his pockets was one of Joe’s regulars, a man by the name of Crash Jaxun. He’d come in around 11 in the morning and sit for hours nursing some disgustingly sweet confection at one of the back tables away from the windows. His sister always tipped generously when she arrived at around 2 to pick him up, and the two had continued the trend for as long as Andi had worked here. She didn’t know why they scheduled it like that, but every weekday like clockwork they’d show up and leave at exactly the same times.

Crash never looked anyone in the face if he could help it - though he always wore a huge pair of aviators so it was hard to tell - but Andi pasted on a smile for him anyway and returned to her spot by the register. “Hey, sorry, what can I get for you? Did you finish your drink?”

It only happened rarely, but if he did finish his drink before his sister arrived Crash would always order the exact same one again and make sure to finish it just as his sister walked in the door. Andi’s hands were already moving to the correct keys - fourteen pumps of caramel syrup, _blegh_ \- when Crash shook his head. Then he nodded, then shook his head again before looking for and fidgeting with a coffee stirrer he’d pulled from the mug of them that was always kept by the register.

“’M sorry,” he mumbled without looking up, and Andi blinked at him.

“What?”

“I’m sorry,” he said, enunciating each word carefully though his voice didn’t get any louder. He paused for a moment, and then continued. “For your loss.”

Andi’s breath caught in her throat and she blinked furiously to keep the tears out of her eyes. The sentiment had sounded trite coming from her grandmother’s knitting friends, Joe had said he’d keep her place for her, and Hollywood hadn’t said anything at all. She was struck momentarily speechless that one of the customers she’d only ever spoken to about his drink order would say it so sincerely.

He seemed to take her silence as a prompt to continue. “I remember, remember how bad it was, when Dad died. Tessa acted strong, but I heard her sniffling too when she thought I wasn’t paying attention.” He glanced up at her face once and immediately looked away again. “It was hard, for a while. I remember, it was hard. So. You know.” He shuffled his feet. “I’m sorry.”

Before Andi could say anything - though even she didn’t know if she was going to thank him or ask about his father - Crash turned and hurried back to his usual seat like he was afraid someone was going to take it in his absence, leaving Andi alone with her thoughts. She could feel tears welling up with gratitude at the sincerity of Crash’s simple statement, but before she could signal Hollywood to take over for her so she could go cry in the cold storage room the bell above the door tinkled to signal a customer entering. She hurriedly blinked the tears away and fixed up the smile that had slipped at some point during Crash’s speech.

“Hi! Welcome to Joe’s, what can I get for you?”

The black man in a police jacket who had just walked in didn’t even bother to look at the menu before ordering. “Coffee, large, black. What do you want, Eli?” he asked the somewhat younger man who’d come in with him. The teenager spent a long moment looking at the menus written in chalk above the cash register before replying.

“Large mocha with whipped cream.” The older man rolled his eyes at the order but didn’t say anything and Andi quickly tapped the keys to input it into the system.

“Will that be all?” She asked politely, and the two nodded before Mr. Police Jacket reached for his wallet to pay.

The two of the were the start of a mini-rush - nothing crazy like the lunch crowd, but over the next twenty minutes or so a steady stream of people went in and out of the door. The buff woman who worked at the gym down the street came in towing her little brother Mac, whom she dumped at the table next to Crash’s and admonished to _stay there_ while she finished her shift; the haggard-looking psychologist who always ordered a cold brew with a shot of cherry; a tired-looking teacher who ordered a quadruple shot and then nearly fell asleep while drinking it; a very Southern woman who twanged her way through an order for a vanilla latte; and finally a very tall older man who was quite possibly the most _menacing_ person Andi had ever seen wearing an actual suit (and not, you know, riot gear) ordered a small black coffee before taking a table not too far from Crash and Mac - who seemed to have hit it off and were now huddled at the same table.

After another ten minutes of no-one else coming through the door, Hollywood came out of wherever he’d been lurking in the back and tapped her on the shoulder. “Break time kiddo,” he said, and Andi nodded before stepping away from the register to let him sign on. Hollywood knew everyone’s names - he could name every customer that came in the door whether they’d been to the shop before or not and frankly Andi secretly suspected him of being a psychic - but if he knew you well he almost never called you by it. Crash was “kid,” Andi was “kiddo,” the guy who made the pastries and sandwiches for the counter was “cook,” and the tall dude who always came in wearing a real 1920s-style fedora was “roads.”

Andi shucked her apron obediently and went back to the little nook in the kitchen that was the designated break area. One of the other workers - a slightly cat-obsessed woman named Aquamarine - had at one point tried to cheer the place up with some throw pillows and a table cloth for the minuscule table crammed into it, but the pillows now lived in one of the nearby drawers until someone needed a nap and the tablecloth had acquired a number of mysterious stains that turned the cat print into some kind of weird abstract. Still, it was quiet and Cook always had a plate of ugly or burned food in the middle of the table so Andi helped herself to a very crunchy toasted sandwich and an undersized croissant as she could hear the sound of the lunch rush picking up.

Crash’s words still resonated with a strangely healing kind of hurt and her thoughts wandered towards the morose, but the food helped and by the time her half-hour was up the lunch rush was in full swing. Working meant she didn’t have to do much thinking, so going out and opening up the second register was a welcome distraction and for the next hour or so she managed to keep busy enough that she didn’t have to think about anything beyond getting an order and making it. By the time a quarter to 2 rolled around, things had quieted down again to the point where Hollywood had her close her register and move to his so he could go into the back and do…whatever he did in the back. Andi wasn’t sure she wanted to know; all that mattered was that if someone got rowdy or ornery he would pop up out of nowhere and threaten to hit them with his ordering book. That was usually enough to shut even the most offended Karen up, and he’d only ever had to follow through on the threat once that Andi could remember.

She busied herself with wiping down the counter and cleaning up what she could without using the really nasty solvents or taking the machines apart - the more she got done now, the less work they’d have to do when they closed at four. Most of the customers from earlier had left - Mac had been picked up at some point by his sister, the psychologist and the teacher had both left immediately after getting their drinks, and neither the cop nor the twanger were sitting at any of the tables - but the old man in the suit was still there. He’d pulled out reading glasses at some point, and appeared to be doing the crossword puzzle in one of the local newspapers. The small coffee cup in front of him was still half full, and Andi shrugged mentally. He wouldn’t be the first retiree they had taking up a table for most of the day - though certainly the most intimidating to ever do so - and as long as he still had a drink he was still a customer.

2 on the dot saw Tessa walk in, order her usual, and walk out with Crash in tow. More people drifted in and out but the old man stayed at the table he’d claimed until it was almost time to close. Andi was just beginning to consider politely asking him to leave - he was the last customer in the place, and she couldn’t really start the heavy-duty cleaning until he left - when he suddenly reached out, drained the last quarter-cup of coffee he’d had sitting in front of him, and stood up.

“Thanks,” he said, indicating the cup in front of him. His voice was low and a little gravelly, like he’d used to smoke or something.

He paused for a long moment before deflating slightly and nodding to her. “It’s good coffee,” he said at last before picking up his newspaper and walking swiftly out the door.

Andi blinked after him as the tinkling bell signaled his departure. She had the strangest feeling that wasn’t what he’d actually wanted to say, but for the life of her she didn’t know what that might have been. Shrugging to her herself, she turned and picked up the now-empty mug off the table. To her surprise, underneath it was a neatly-folded twenty. It was the biggest tip she’d gotten that day, but something about it - and the old man - just felt weird.

Shaking it off, she went and flipped the sign on the door to closed before beginning her cleaning routine. Whatever the old man’s deal was, it wasn’t her problem for now.

* * *

Over the next week, Andi saw the old man four more times. He never stayed as long as the first time, but he always ordered the same thing and never came in on anybody else’s shift - she’d asked Aquamarine and Nathan, and both of them had denied seeing him whenever they were working. It creeped her out a little bit to think about, but the old man never did anything. He’d come in, order a small black coffee, and sit at the same table for a seemingly indeterminate amount of time. One day he stayed only stayed for ten minutes, the next day he took the table for three hours.

She’d considered asking Hollywood about it, but he hadn’t seemed to be bothered by the man - not like the time when some creepy neckbeard had decided Aquamarine should be the object of his affections. Andi hadn’t seen the guy do anything, but the third time he’d showed up Hollywood had stopped him, told him clearly that stalking the employees was not allowed and wouldn’t be tolerated, and added that if he ever showed up at Joe’s Place again there would be Consequences that he would not enjoy. Neither Andi nor Aquamarine had ever seen the dude again, and the incident was only rarely discussed.

All of which basically amounted to if Hollywood wasn’t throwing this guy out then he probably wasn’t a pervert. Still, Andi didn’t know what to think of the fact that he only showed up when she was working. She’d almost decided to let it go another week and see what happened when the old man decided the whole issue for her.

He’d come in later than usual - a quarter til four, and he was the only one in the shop. Joe’s Place only served coffee and pastries, and there wasn’t enough people who wanted that after four to warrant them staying open later. Andi had just decided to start the closing work early - the faster she got it done, the sooner she could go home - when the bell tinkled to signal a customer. She hurried out of the closet in the back where they kept the cleaning supplies and pasted a smile on her face.

“Hi! Welcome to Joe’s, what can I get for you?”

He didn’t answer for a long moment before finally blowing out a puff of air in a heavy sigh. “I need to speak with you.” He paused for another instant. “Privately.”

Andi felt her heart jump into her throat. The guy looked to be about 75, and dressed in a very nice suit to boot, but he was also built like a truck and the lines in his face didn’t look like they came from smiling.

“I, I don’t know, I - it’s nearly closing, and-”

“And I can take care of it for one evening,” Hollywood interjected smoothly, appearing like magic from the door to the kitchen. “Go ahead and punch out a little early, kiddo, I’ll make sure everything’s ready for opening tomorrow.”

The old man’s expression didn’t change even as Andi shot Hollywood a betrayed look. The taller barista simply smiled benignly and waved her off, and Andi begrudgingly went and got her things from the employee closet in the back. When she walked out, Hollywood was sweeping the floor while the old man stood stiff and tall next to the door. Andi didn’t exactly want to leave the protection of Hollywood, but she trusted the other man enough to the point where if he was letting her leave with the old dude, it was probably safe to do so.

The old man opened the door and stepped out first, scanning the area around them before stepping aside and letting Andi past. She raised an eyebrow - did he think Hollywood would let muggers lurk around Joe’s Place? - but let it pass without comment as the big man fell in step beside her, matching his pace to hers. Which Andi was obscurely grateful for; she’d had tall friends in the past who weren’t as considerate and she’d had to jog to keep up with them at times.

The silence stretched between them, until Andi huffed, impatient. “Well, you said you wanted to talk to me where Hollywood couldn’t hear. So, talk.”

Maybe it was a little rude, but this guy was freaking her out a little. He just had this aura around him of danger that made her hair stand on end. If anyone but Hollywood had assured her the guy was safe, she’d’ve called them nuts. As it stood, she was less inclined to believe even Hollywood by the minute; if this guy didn’t start talking…

The man seemed to deflate with a sigh, suddenly looking older than the 75 she’d pegged him for before. He reached into his pocket and she immediately backed off a step, heart hammering, but all he pulled out was a slightly worn envelope. Wordlessly, he held it out to her. She looked at him suspiciously but took it, and nearly dropped it when she saw the familiar - if somewhat shaky - handwriting on the front. Her hands were shaking as she pulled the letter out of the envelope, but he didn’t reach for her until she’d gotten to the very end and big fat tears started rolling down her face.

He reached out then, one awkward hand on her shoulder, and that was all the invitation Andi needed. Throwing herself forward she flung her arms around the old man - the old man her grandmother had chosen to write to while she was dying. Andi still missed her grandmother like a phantom limb, and the letter so warmly recounting her exploits to someone Andi’d never met had been too much. Her grandmother had told her she loved her many times, but it was almost overwhelming to have tangible proof. The older man didn’t seem to know how to react, though he hadn’t even stumbled when she’d barreled into him. He was warm, and tall, and broad, and while there were some weird lumps under his clothing Andi clutched at him like a lifeline.

One broad hand gently settled itself between her shoulder blades while the other rescued the letter from being crumpled in her fist. He didn’t do more than pat her awkwardly on the back a few times, but his hand was nearly big enough for a full and proper hug to be unnecessary. They stayed that way for a long while, Andi sobbing into his suit coat and the much taller man holding her while she did so, but finally the tears tapered off to hiccupping breaths and he let her draw back from him shakily, still wiping her eyes.

She gave a small, watery smile. “I think you already know, but…Hi. I’m Andi Jaymes,” she took a shuddering breath, “and I’m your granddaughter.”

He gave her a small smile back. It looked odd on his face, like his face had been carved over the years in such a way as to make smiling nearly impossible, and there was a strange mixture of happiness and sorrow in his eyes.

“Hello, Andi Jaymes,” he replied. “I’m Bruno Hamilton. And I’m your grandfather.”


End file.
